


Inconvenient Fireworks

by tinsnip



Category: Deep Dish Nine - Fandom, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe, And DOING IT ANYWAY, Deep Dish Nine, First Meeting, Flirting, Knowing this is probably a bad idea, M/M, Overthinking it, Pre-Relationship, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:59:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinsnip/pseuds/tinsnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elim Garak has built himself a fairly comfortable life in Alpha City. He misses Cardassia, but he manages. Really, he quite likes it: he has his privacy, his own little space, lots of time to read; everything is just fine, thanks.<br/>And one day, a waiter at a pizzeria takes an interest in what he's reading, and his world explodes.</p><p>Set in the Deep Dish Nine AU; further details available on its tumblr <a href="http://deep-dish-nine.tumblr.com/">here</a>. Adorable, you guys, just <em>adorable.</em></p><p>Lady Yate-Xel wrote it first, from Julian's POV, and I fell in love with it so goddamned hard that I just had to write Garak's - and she <em>let</em> me!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swamp-spirit](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=swamp-spirit).
  * Inspired by [Deep Dish Nine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/751178) by [LadyYateXel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyYateXel/pseuds/LadyYateXel). 



> Written while listening to Vienna Teng's "Stray Italian Greyhound".  
> Final play count: _204._

“Oh, no, not now.”

Garak politely waved away the offer of a refill. The young waiter nodded, flashed a smile, and headed back to the kitchen.

As he walked away, Garak indulged himself for just a moment, admiring the view. Goodness, but he was a pretty thing, wasn’t he. Such large eyes, and that mouth… How nice that this little pizza parlour offered such pleasant ambiance along with the food.

He smiled to himself, and attended to his salad. While his right hand busied itself with his fork, his left flipped his book back open, his index finger tracing down the page ‘til he found his place.  Ah, yes, here it was –

He lost himself in his book, only half paying attention to his meal, barely monitoring his surroundings, and contented minutes passed as he reminded himself of another world, warm and complex, conversations sparkling, deceptions weaving tangled threads –

“Ahem.”

For a moment, his eyes closed in mild irritation. Was there anything worse than being interrupted while reading? He gathered himself, smiled pleasantly, looked up; ah, yes, here was that young waiter again, leaning over him, with a pitcher of water in hand and a slightly apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir. I just - I know I hate being bothered when I’m reading, but I - ”

Garak blinked, mollified by this unexpected echo of his own thoughts. His smile became slightly more real. “That’s quite all right, ah…” – a quick glance at the name tag – “…Julian. Is there something…?”

Julian smiled back, tentatively; _rather an awkward young thing, aren’t you._ “Uh, I just wanted to check that everything was all right – your water glass is empty, can I – or perhaps you want to hear about dessert – “

Yes, indeed, very awkward. _This is painful._ Garak held up a hand to stop the torrent of words. “More water would be most appreciated; as for dessert, I fear my waistline would not thank me if I indulged today.” He nodded to Julian, wanting so very much to turn back to his book, to lose himself in it once again –

“Um.” And Julian angled his head, trying to read the page, and Garak was tempted to sigh in exasperation; he kept the smile on his face instead. “What language is that book in?”

“It’s in Kardasi.”

“Oh. I, uh… I don’t speak Kardasi.”

“Really.” And now Garak allowed his tone to become a trifle dry. Julian missed it, apparently, because he didn’t leave. _I may have to be just a little more obvious._

“Can I… what book is it?”

 _I am the soul of forbearance._ “It’s called  Like the Regnar.” And hopefully that would satisfy the young man’s trivia quota for the day, and he would go _away_ –

“Oh! By Verota?”

Garak blinked. _Really?_ “Yes, by Verota.”

The young man’s face lit, eyes widening. “Oh, isn’t it good? I love that book, how the plot – wait, perhaps I shouldn’t – is this your first time reading it?”

This was a quite unexpected development, and Garak was really not certain of how to react. _When all else fails, Elim, smile and play along._ Very well, he’d smile. “My fifth, actually.”

 _“Oh!”_ And Julian grinned widely and bounced just a little on his toes, pitcher of water sloshing dangerously. “Then I can – don’t you think it’s marvelous, how Verota ties in all the characters at the end? How they all find themselves back where they began?” He tilted his head, enchantingly, and Garak had completely forgotten how to speak. _What is this? The pretty one_ knows _things –_

He became aware that his smile had changed, subtly, had widened to show teeth – and apparently it wasn’t quite as benign as he might have liked, because Julian’s expression had changed too, smile a bit frozen, eyes suddenly puzzled, and he leaned away just a little as if to back off – _no, stay!_

Garak clamped down on his expression, closed his mouth but kept smiling, and Julian relaxed just a little, _whew_ \- what a shame it would have been to terrify the first person he’d met here who knew _anything_ about Verota. He blinked up at Julian and tried to project _charming._ “Forgive me my reaction. I am simply surprised to meet someone with a knowledge of Cardassian literature.” _Dare I hope?_

Julian nodded understandingly, relaxing a little more; crisis averted, _good._ “Oh, that’s all right. Believe me, I find it hard to find people to talk to about it too. I mean, even at the university, nobody reads the Cardassian classics – it’s so disappointing – they’re so rich, and when you compare them to, oh, Shakespeare, or some of the really socially complex Regency novels, you find the most _fascinating_ parallels – “

Garak smiled, and nodded, and let the young man’s pleasant babble wash over him as he quietly contemplated his good fortune. _Somewhere in my misspent youth, I apparently managed to do someone a good turn, and I am now being repaid…_

“ – and really, it often seems that they’re saying _so much more_ than they’ve written, don’t you think?” And Julian blinked at him, smiling eagerly.

Garak wanted to laugh; he bit it back firmly. _How marvelous!_ “Julian, you are more right than you know.” He smiled warmly, and Julian actually _blushed_ , a hint of pink rising in his tan cheeks, and this was _incredible_ , this was a treat beyond imagining. With a quick motion, Garak closed his book, and he gestured to the empty chair across the table.

“Please, sit down. I would be fascinated to hear more of your opinions on Cardassian literature.”

Julian’s brows rose. “I wouldn’t – you wouldn’t be bored?”

Garak was incredulous. “My dear, I would be _captivated.”_

They grinned at each other, in a moment of mutual restrained delight.

“Um,” and Julian was suddenly distracted, “but I really should get back to work…”

 _No, don’t go –_ “Don’t they let you take breaks at this establishment?” And Garak mock-frowned, lips pursed. “Really, I had no idea it was such a sweatshop.”

Julian laughed just a little, and paused, thinking, pitcher of water swinging slowly in his hand; Garak reached out to steady it, and Julian started, and caught the pitcher before it could slip. He nodded thanks at Garak, and cast a quick look back at the front counter, at the kitchen. The Bajoran woman behind the counter was frowning; she raised her brows meaningfully, _isn’t there something you should be doing?_

Julian’s mouth twisted, and he shook his head. “No. I have to work. I’m sorry.”

 _So am I._ Garak smiled easily, no trace of his disappointment showing on his features. “Ah, well. I suppose I shall have to console myself with my book.”

“Well, Verota is a very good way of consoling oneself.” And Julian smiled at him again, suddenly pleased. “I know! Do you work around here? I mean, are you local?”

Garak blinked, not seeing the relevance. “Yes, I have a shop in the plaza – Garak’s Clothiers.”

“Oh, the tailor! Good! Then you can - why don’t you come back tomorrow? Come around two – that’s my break – we could talk – “ And Julian was smiling most engagingly, and he was really almost unfairly pretty, and there were certainly worse ideas than looking at pretty and talking about books.

“I’d be delighted.”

“Oh – uh – “ Julian suddenly frowned. “You know, I don’t know your name… Um… I’m Julian – “ He thrust out a hand, and then clearly felt stupid for introducing himself to someone who obviously knew his name already, and Garak wanted to laugh.

With great solemnity, he carefully shook Julian’s hand. “A pleasure, Julian. My name is Garak.”

“Oh. Like the shop.”

He did not laugh. “Yes. Like the shop.”

Julian winced at himself, again - _that’s twice in the span of ten seconds –_ and now Garak couldn’t help but smile.


	2. Chapter 2

“ – well, yes, Verota does use his characters to illustrate moral issues, but don’t you think you’re oversimplifying just a bit?”

“Oh, no! I mean, Garak, look at it, he’s doing the same thing that Austen does with Emma, he’s using Tel’Th to point out how Rakel’s innocence is causing him to make mistakes – the social hierarchy just doesn’t allow for his behaviour –“

“But Emma is hardly comparable, her situation in life is quite different – “

“But it’s not the _situation_ that matters, it’s the _result_ – “

* * *

“You seemed so interested in Verota’s other works, I thought I’d lend you one of them.”

“Oh, excellent! I’ll take good care of it, I promise. Is this the one you told me about, the one about – “

“The usurpation plot, yes, but there are also some fascinating undertones about familial loyalty; I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will. Thanks!”

“My pleasure. Good day, Julian.”

* * *

“Oh – he’s not in today? But… today is Thursday?”

“He had a midterm, Mr. Garak.”

“Please, just Garak is fine.”

“Uh huh. Look, if you want to leave the book here, I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“Ah… thank you, Miss Kira. You are too kind.”

“Wait, hold on – I think there’s… yeah, there’s one for you, too. And a note.”

“Ah, excellent. _Thank_ you.”

“Don’t mention it. Really.”

* * *

 _I wonder if he finished the book. I wonder what he thought of it. One-forty-five PM, hm. It will be interesting to see him compare it to Julius Caesar, my goodness, that horribly plotted thing. If that’s really what he thinks of as devious behaviour, I shall have to educate him. Perhaps I shall lend him Shadows over Kardasi’or – _that _would teach him something about how Cardassians can plot… One-forty-eight PM – perhaps the clock is slow… Yes, Shadows, and then perhaps something longer-reaching, or perhaps a series – something with a theme – ah, perhaps The Never-Ending Sacrifice – challenging, lots of room for discussion there, and it would take him at _least _a week or two to finish, probably more with all that studying – excellent, that’s our lineup for the next month, then. One-fifty PM… Well, it is never impolite to arrive early –_


	3. Chapter 3

“Julian, clearly you don’t understand the subtlety with which Becerat is making her point. Her illustration of the High Command as jewels in a crown is, on the surface, flattering, but in truth, don’t you think there may be more to the image?”

Julian frowned, thinking; his fingers drummed on the table. “I just – I don’t understand what’s bad about being compared to a jewel.”

Garak nodded, waiting patiently.

“I mean, jewels are pretty… jewels are important to a crown… can’t have a king without a crown, can’t have a crown without jewels…”

“Can one not have a king without a crown?”

“Well…” Julian thought. “I mean, _yes_ , I suppose…”

“And what is a crown without a king?”

“Well, it’s nothing. It’s just ornamental. _Oh,_ ” and suddenly Julian’s eyes widened, and Garak had to repress a grin, _this_ was what he’d waited for, “oh, it’s just _ornamental_ , it’s nothing – without a king to wear it, there’s no point having a crown – without the leadership of the gul-tar, the High Command is powerless – oh, I _see!”_ And he grinned widely, and slapped a hand down on the table, and the cutlery danced, not to mention Garak’s glass of water –

He caught it as it slid from the table’s edge, and smiled at Julian, whose expression had flipped from delight to dismay. “You are beginning to understand, Julian.” He placed the water glass delicately back on the tabletop, and gestured, _see, no harm done._

Julian smiled again, relieved, and now suddenly just a little teasing. “How very kind you are, Garak, to spend your lunch break educating me.”

Garak allowed himself an expressive eye-roll. “It is a burden, I admit, but I have many sins to expiate; I consider this my penance.”

Julian chuckled, and eyed him. “Many sins? Really?”

“Oh, yes,” and Garak applied himself to his pasta, deliberately breaking their eye contact. “It’s really a shame we don’t have more time to talk, Julian. The stories I could tell you – “ And he looked up, thoughtfully, and made a gesture as if to toss the idea away. “Well, it’s moot, isn’t it.” A bite of pasta; his eyes closed, better to appreciate the sauce, and he waited –

And Julian, as always, did not disappoint. “We could… I mean, I don’t _live_ here, you know; we could always meet up after my shift, or something, right?”

Garak let his eyes open in surprise. “A novel idea! Well, if you think it would be worthwhile, I’d hate to disappoint you.” He smiled engagingly, tilted his head. “Perhaps tomorrow?”

“Uh – “ Julian was clearly taken aback at how fast that idea had taken hold. “Um, I don’t - I don’t work tomorrow.”

“I thought that was the point.”

“Yes, but – when would we – and where – “

Garak pondered for a moment, idly twirling fettuccine around his fork. “Well, _where_ could be at my shop – because I _do_ work tomorrow – and from there, out for coffee - and _when_ could be, mmm, six o’clock, after I close up?”

Julian was blinking, thinking about it. “Uh… Well, I have class in the morning… and lab at two… but yes, I could be back here by – yes, that could…” And he looked up, and smiled at Garak. “Yes. Yes, let’s.”

“Excellent!” Garak smiled back, and nodded firmly at Julian. “I shall have to be certain to finish my reread of Much Ado About Nothing by then.”

“You could always just watch the movie.” Julian grinned.

Garak’s own smile quirked. “That would be cheating.”

“Not necessarily.” Julian lifted a finger, considering. “Have you ever seen the Kenneth Branagh adaptation, with Emma Thompson?”

“I confess, I have not.”

“Oh, Garak, it’s excellent!” And Julian’s face changed, excitement washing over his features. _It’s really quite sweet, how animated he gets over these little things._ “Oh, I’ll bring it tomorrow, I own it – you’ll like it – and then we can compare the play to the movie – yes, that’ll be _great!”_ Goodness, he was practically bouncing in his seat, and Garak was finding his enthusiasm rather contagious.

“Julian, I didn’t know you had any interest in film.”

“Oh, yeah, I love it – honestly, haven’t got much time for books, usually, not with class and studying – but I can always fit in a movie – “

“Ah!” _Can he be real?_ “What do you watch?”

Julian bit his lip as he thought, and Garak found himself briefly captivated by white teeth and soft flesh, and put _that_ thought right back where it came from. “Um, I watch… Well, a lot of spy movies, honestly. You know – Bond stuff. And some horror, sometimes, some really good ones there – “ And he paused, briefly dismayed by Garak’s no-doubt unenthusiastic expression. “No, really – I mean it – look, have you ever seen any of the Bond movies?”

“A few.”

“And what did you think?”

“A trifle unrealistic.”

“Oh, _Garak_ – “ And Julian waved his hands in the air in exasperation. “You’re missing the _point – “_

“I simply feel that if one is going to make a film about a spy, one should do some simple preliminary research.”

“No, look, listen to me, you don’t understand what Bond is _about_ – “


	4. Chapter 4

That night, he settles back on his couch, cup of tea in hand, and flips back to his bookmark, and Benedick is saying to Beatrice, “I do love nothing in the world so well as you; is not that strange?” and he smiles to himself, and sips his tea –

\- well, perhaps _one_ chocolate; it has been a particularly nice day, after all – up on to the chair, stretching to the top of the cabinet, reaching for the fabric-covered box -

\- mmm, he does need to finish embroidering that collar… Perhaps he can just bring the box with him; easier to have another, that way, if he wants to –

\- out of tea already? He’s humming to himself as he brews a fresh pot, comfortable in warmth and dim light –

\- Julian really was quick, wasn’t he – he’d caught right on, Garak had only needed to lead him a little – clever and beautiful, honestly, was that allowed? –

\- such a foolish play, truly; although that was the point, he supposed, and the way Beatrice and Benedick danced around each other, giving no quarter, seducing through language, it was almost Cardassian – did Julian see that? He’d have to ask tomorrow –

\- brushing his teeth before bed, and catching himself humming… the James Bond theme? _Honestly, Elim_ –

\- slipping between his sheets, eyes closing, pleased with himself and he’s not quite sure why…


	5. Chapter 5

“It’s _crap,_ Garak.”

Garak smiled, and sipped his coffee. “Well, I suppose that is one interpretation of T’Pret’s analysis.”

“One interpretation!” Julian’s eyebrows rose, indignantly. “Her _analysis_ of the Bond ‘mythos’ is frankly insulting! An ‘immature wish-fulfillment fantasy’ – I mean, really? James Bond is the _everyman._ He’s what everyone wants to be, deep down. I mean, don’t you think so?” Julian made a frustrated gesture and gulped coffee, his eyes eloquent over his mug.

Garak shrugged, just a little. “I don’t want to be James Bond.”

Julian frowned in disbelief. “Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.” He was quietly emphatic.

Julian was quiet for a moment, too, taking that in. “Why not?”

“Hmm. For one thing, I think it would be terribly lonely.” Garak examined his coffee, the light foam on top swirling, clinging to the edges of his mug.

“Lonely?” Julian almost gaped. “He gets the girl _every time_ – “

“Yes, and every time it’s a different girl.” Garak sipped his coffee. “Who does he talk to about his adventures at the end of the day? Who reassures him that, despite the damage he’s caused, the people he’s killed, he’s still on the side of the angels?” _You have no idea, Julian, no idea at all…_

This was clearly a bit serious for Julian. “Um. M, I suppose.”

“Ah. M. His _spymaster.”_ Garak rolled his eyes. “Who has no ulterior motive at all, I suppose, for ensuring James Bond continues to happily do his job without question. Certainly someone to be trusted, yes?”

“I – uh, Garak – look, it’s not _meant_ to be realistic, is it.”

“A pity.” Garak sighed. “It would be so much more engaging if it were.”

Julian lifted a skeptical brow. “Do tell.”

“Well, do you remember that Romulan film I mentioned - hmm, but you don’t speak Romulan, do you… Julian, tell me: how do you cope with subtitles?”

A frown, slightly insulted. “Spectacularly.”

Garak smiled. “Then perhaps one day I’ll show you how engaging a _truly_ realistic spy movie can be. Although I may have to provide some cultural notes to clarify certain matters… do you know, they really should include those with the subtitles, don’t you think?” He pursed his lips, and drank deeply from his mug; _ah_ , just a little bit sweet, with an undertone of bitterness, a pleasing duality…

Julian pursed his lips and drank from his own mug, managing not to get foam on his nose this time. Garak found himself subtly disappointed. But no response to his comment, nothing at all? Hmm.

“My dear, I do hope this conversation isn’t getting a bit too cerebral for its own good…?”

“What? Oh, _no_ , Garak – “ And Julian waved a hand, as if to brush that idea away. “No, I’m just thinking, is all.”

“Hmm?” _Tell me more._ And perhaps there’d be a smile, soon…

“Oh… It’s just that I’ve talked about James Bond with Miles before, and we – we agree on pretty much everything about it, really, how it’s fun, how he always gets the girl… But we’ve certainly never compared James Bond with foreign cinema. Can’t… can’t imagine that, actually.” Julian’s eyes were thoughtful, and he tapped a finger on the rim of his mug.

 _Ah, Miles…_ Julian’s friend from the pizza parlour, the sturdy fellow in his late thirties with a bit of a chip on his shoulder – he certainly didn’t have much use for Garak, at any rate. _Clever fellow._ Garak nodded, inviting Julian to continue.

“Well, it’s just interesting to talk to someone about how James Bond might be… lonely. I mean… it’s just not the kind of thing Miles would consider, really, so even if I’m not sure I agree, it’s nice to even talk about it.” Julian drank deeply from his mug, and Garak watched, smiling to himself, as his eyes closed for just a moment in pleasure. _How lovely you are, Julian…_ And _that_ was not a useful line of thought, was it, so that stopped right away, yes? Yes. Although it was remarkably enjoyable to spend time with the young man away from the pizzeria, just the two of them – gah, enough of _that,_ he’d be giving himself romantic delusions next, _Elim Garak, you are not on a date._

Julian opened his eyes and smiled to himself – more of a smirk, really, quite funny on his innocent features, but still a smile, _excellent_. He leaned in, as if to tell Garak a particularly juicy secret. “You know, Miles wouldn’t stop saying that this was a date when I told him we were doing this.”

 _Ah – uh –_ well, if _Miles_ thought it looked like a date -

How to address the fact that one’s heart has just stopped without demonstrating it in any way? _Distract, distract_ –

Deliberately, he looked away from Julian; he gazed instead into his nearly-empty mug, and smiled as mysteriously as he could, while inside his head he reeled, _Elim, what kind of game are you playing with yourself, here?_

“And of course you told him the truth.” _Which is…?_ Oh, had he been trying to lie to _himself?_ _Getting tricky in your old age, Elim -_

“Well, yes, I told him it was just coffee.” Julian’s voice was dismissive, and there was no reason at all that his tone should feel like a blow to the stomach, oh, he was being _stupid_ , and pretending things that just weren’t so…

And yet… God, his curiosity would be the death of him one day, but what if –

He tilted his mug, kept his voice light. “And I assume that since you haven’t made any excuses to leave that you enjoyed ‘just coffee.’”

“Yes, of course!” Oh, and his heart actually leaped, _oh, no, please, no –_

“Like I said, I can’t talk to Miles about the merits of subtitled foreign films versus spy movies.” _Oh._ Well, that wasn’t quite what he’d hoped for – _Elim, what on earth gives you the idea that you have_ anything _to hope for?_

What was this? This tickling in his stomach, his racing heart – so unexpected, yet so achingly familiar – _Elim Garak, when did you let yourself get interested in this man? He’s certainly not interested in you._ Oh, this was truly embarrassing; he was glad his thoughts were safely hidden away in his skull, where they couldn’t run rampant and humiliate him or Julian –

But Julian was here with him, peering over the rim of his coffee cup as he sipped, and he did _seem_ to be enjoying himself –

 _Oh, what the hell. Ask. Why not. Get it over with. Let him say no._ And then he could put away this strange little fantasy he seemed to be entertaining, and go home, and read a book – lose himself in another world – mentally, he braced himself –

“Then my question to you is,” and he glanced for a moment up at Julian, “if this _had been_ a date, and I asked you for a second one, would you accept?”

A cough, a splutter – Julian had been caught mid-swallow. “Er…” He looked at Garak, half-panicked. “It… wasn’t a date, was it? Is it _now?”_

 _Ouch, oh, ouch…_ and what else had he expected?

“No.” He shook his head, his expression calm and unrevealing, and inside he wanted to –

“I’m… not sure.”

_What?_

“I suppose if everything happened exactly the same, I would do it again.”

This… wasn’t exactly a “no,” was it.

“I mean…” and Julian looked pensive, “if you had asked just now and hadn’t attached the word ‘date,’ I would, so… if we were already on one…”

He looked up at Garak, and his expression was almost whimsical. “I think so?”

Fireworks, actual _fireworks_ behind his eyes – and all he could allow himself was the trace of a smile. _Now is the moment, Elim – you have clearance, mission is go –_

“Perhaps a film for a second date, then?” He tilted his head, let his smile widen just a little, _don’t want to blind the man, oh, Julian, if you knew -_

Julian’s whimsical expression fell away as his eyes widened. “You just – I thought we just said this wasn’t a date!”

 _It certainly didn’t start out as one._ “It isn’t.”

Julian’s brows lowered. “You can’t ask me on a second date when we haven’t had a first one!”

Ah, and now Garak needed to dance, to entice; as always, words were his best attribute – _think quickly, Elim!_ –

He wrapped his hands around his mug, pulling it to him for subtle reassurance, something to hold on to while he launched himself into empty air. “But do you really want to deal with all the awkward moments associated with a first date? It’s all about spilling drinks on the other person and worrying about how loudly you’re chewing or laughing.” He leaned in, smiling conspiratorially, catching Julian’s gaze with his own and holding it. “Why not just skip that one entirely?”  _Come, Julian, don’t you want to play along with me?_

Julian blinked, and a tentative smile crept on to his face. “First date after the second date, then?”

 _Yes, yes_ – “Or after a fifth!” God, he was almost ebullient, daring and mad – he leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers against his mug, _flights of fancy are what’s needed here_ – “We could be creative. There’s no need to limit ourselves to a linear timeline.”

Julian thought about this for a moment, head tilted. “Would we even _have_ to go back and do the awkward one eventually?”

“Only if you wanted to.” _Oh, please –_ and was he even considering this, how in the span of five minutes had he gone from idle admiration to intense desire –

And Julian’s smile widened, and he looked at Garak with amusement. “I’ve just agreed to this, haven’t I?”

With effort, Garak kept his tone light, his words measured. “I want to say ‘yes,’” and what an understatement _that_ was, “but I’m not about to put words in your mouth. It is, of course, your decision.”

“Well, I…” And Julian actually sat there, staring into the middle distance, and thought about it; Garak could see him weighing pros and cons in his mind, and he knew that saying anything else would not be helpful, and he very nearly had to bite his own tongue to keep silent –

“Okay,” and Julian looked up at him, “I suppose I’m up for a movie.”

 _Oh_ , more fireworks, blinding him and terribly inconvenient when he wanted to look at Julian, to enjoy that sweet face smiling at him in this perfect moment – _Elim Garak, what is wrong with you?_ _Pull yourself together; you are being ridiculous._

But he so wanted to beam, he really did. He drew his tattered dignity around him, and kept his voice calm. “Fantastic – when are you free?” _I want to set this up now, before you change your mind, before that wonderful “maybe” turns into a “no” -_

“Erm, let me see…” Julian placed his mug on the table, pulled his bag up into his lap, and began to rifle through it. He peered up at Garak once, and Garak smiled at him, unable to repress it, then looked away; he needed to stay calm, to not seem over-eager, surely there must be _something_ interesting to look at in this coffee shop… _Not nearly as interesting as him, though… What colour_ are _those eyes?_ He drummed his fingers on his thigh, glanced back at Julian, and the expression on Julian’s face was enough to pull him back down from whatever mad plane he’d wandered to. _Concern? Worry?_

Julian opened his mouth, thought for a second, plunged ahead. “You have to know I don’t normally do this, right? I mean, I don’t li – “ He caught himself, rephrased. “I haven’t been interested in a man before. So I’m not really sure this is even going to work.”

 _Neither am I, Julian, and whether or not you are interested in men is truly the least of my worries at this moment._ Best make light of it. “How fortunate that I came along at the right time, then!” He smiled engagingly, and Julian actually puffed a small laugh – encouraging!

“I don’t think it’s your timing, it’s just… you.”

 _Oh._ And if he hadn’t been half-delirious before, he certainly was now – did Julian have any idea how lovely that was, how flattering and sweet? How could he thank him for that without frankly fawning? Even in this sudden madness, he _had_ to have limits –

He settled for, “Even better,” and a smile that made Julian blush just slightly, and this was delicious, really, but he needed to calm down, his thoughts were racing – it was unbecoming for someone of his age and experience to want to giggle like a teenage girl. Julian looked back down at the papers in his bag, and Garak seized the moment to quickly close his eyes and breathe in, out, in, _slowly, Elim, control, always control…_ he felt a bit calmer…

“It looks like I’ll have Tuesday evening.” Oh – he opened his eyes. Julian seemed almost sorry about Tuesday. What on earth was wrong with Tuesday? Surely there was no better day than Tuesday. Hmm, perhaps not so calm, _stop it, Elim_.

“I’m sorry it’s not a weekend, but with work and lectures and labs all happening at different times it’s… not easy to have one of those.” Ah, so that was it, and how did Julian not realize that he could have suggested six-thirty in the morning on a Monday and Garak would have leapt at it?

“Don’t apologize. Tuesday is lovely.” He nodded, and smiled, and Julian smiled back at his smile, and they had just made a date, _ah_ , and now what?

_Now conversation, that’s what. Remember? The reason you arranged this in the first place, before you went insane?_

Ah, yes. He looked over at Julian’s mug, drained to the dregs; his own was in similarly sad shape. He raised his brows at Julian, and Julian looked at their mugs and nodded, _yes please_ , and Garak waved at the waitress. As she refilled their cups, he leaned forward, pulling Julian in again. “Now, I think we were talking about cultural footnotes being included with films in addition to subtitles?”

And Julian blinked, and went with it, moving to the new topic easily, long fingers wrapped around his ceramic mug, and this world was really quite nice, honestly, sometimes much better than books –


	6. Chapter 6

“ – more coffee? Well, I shouldn’t, it’s late – oh, my God – Garak, it’s _three in the morning!”_

“Oh! I _am_ sorry, my dear – I had no idea!”

“Neither did I, oh, I am going to be _wrecked_ tomorrow – “

“Come, let’s head for home.”

“Are you – do you live in the same area?”

“The apartments next to the plaza, yes? Julian, I live in the same _building.”_

* * *

“ – had a lovely time tonight, my dear.”

“I did too, Garak. Thanks so much for suggesting it.”

“Me? Please, Julian, review your memory. I think you’ll find this entire thing was your idea.”

“What – but… Fine, but the movie date is _yours.”_

“I’ll take full responsibility, I promise; all consequences be on my head.”

“Consequences?”

“A figure of speech, only, Julian… Good night, my dear; thank you for gifting me with the privilege of your company.”

“Uh… you’re welcome – I mean, you’re not _welcome_ – oh, I mean – “

“I know, Julian. Good night.”

* * *

\- back in his apartment, arms out, spinning just once on his living room carpet, a slow rotation –

\- sitting on his couch, head resting in his hands, _this is a terrible idea,_ but he can’t stop smiling –

\- his heart is racing and his mind’s outpacing it; he hadn’t asked for this –

\- sun is bursting in on him; he was prepared for rain, he always expected rain, he’d never expected the clouds to _part_ –

 _\- Can I even do this?_ But there isn’t even anything to _do_ , yet –

\- can he afford the possibility of _yet?_ –

_\- Go to bed, Elim! -_

* * *

“ – what did you _do_ to that boy, anyway? Garak, when he came in last night, well…”

“He’s hardly a boy, Quark – and what do you mean, he came in last night?”

“Mmm-hmm, at about four in the morning, with Mr. O’Brien.”

“Really.”

“Yep. And they talked for an hour, and they drank _Scotch.”_

“Scotch…”

“Scotch.”

* * *

“ – I came to see you, actually. Quark mentioned that you were visiting him quite late last night and that you were not doing well today. I couldn’t help but feel responsible.”

“Is there no one he hasn’t told about this?”

“I came to apologize. I didn’t mean to keep you so late. Or drive you to _drink.”_

“It’s not your fault. I should have been paying attention to the time, and I was the one who let Miles take me to Quark’s.”

“I do hope it wasn’t because of something I said.”

“Not exactly.”

“If you’ve reconsidered, you need only say – “

“No. I haven’t.”

* * *

\- working quietly at his shop on Sunday afternoon, the front lights off and the door locked, just to get out of his apartment and away from himself –

\- the slice of the rotary cutter through fabric, the satisfying tension of thread pulled tight, the focus, the meditation of creation –

\- and underneath it all, this vibration, this energy that he hasn’t tasted in so long –

\- this really isn’t a good idea, not at all –

\- _it’s just a movie, and nothing will come of it. You heard him yourself. He’s not interested in men_ –

\- then why did he say _yes?_ –

\- control first, always control, but can he control this? Does he want to? _You ridiculous romantic, Elim Garak, what lies are you telling yourself this time_ –

\- _I’m fine, I’m_ fine _–_

* * *

“ – truthfully, this is the first _date_ I’ve managed in nearly a year and a half.”

“Pardon me if I find that difficult to believe.”

“You wouldn’t if you’d ever been a victim of some of my attempts at flirting.”

“I beg to differ… This colour would suit you.”

“You mean bright red _doesn’t?”_

“My dear, that red suits _no one_ – “


	7. Chapter 7

As the movie faded in, Garak slitted his eyes in preparation; the colours got brighter, and brighter, and painfully _brighter_ –

Next to him, Julian winced and made a small sound of protest. Oh, he hadn’t thought to warn him; _poor host, Elim!_

He smiled apologetically. “It’s supposed to be like this. I’m sorry, I meant to warn you.”

Julian, still wincing, waved a hand, _it’s nothing._ “Don’t tell me this is the ‘almost parody’ part.”

“Well, it’s related.”

Julian eyed the screen mistrustfully, one eye still firmly screwed shut. “You thought I’d _like_ having my retinas burned out? Does it _stay_ like this?”

“You’ll get used to it, I promise.” _I hope. Oh, well, calculated risks -_ “It’s part of the effect of the story. Trust me for an hour or two.”

Judging by Julian’s expression, trust was not coming easily, but he pursed his lips and leaned back in his chair, and squinted at the screen. Garak did the same, doing his best to pretend that Julian wasn’t there. _He’ll like it or he won’t; either way, we can talk…_

The movie played, and Sanik the spy widened his eyes at Vulcan colour choices, and slid his way through one trap after another, and – oh – Garak had forgotten about the laser pen. This was a bit… sillier than he remembered. _Things always look different in one’s memories…_ But the plot was still there, the emotion was still there, even if occasionally Sanik did seem a little bit slapstick; his sharp sarcasm at Vulcan ideology was evident, his words just as barbed.

“That’s the first logical thing you’ve said to me,” said Sanik to a mildly shocked minor character, and Julian laughed, and sat forward just a little, engaged, his hands clasped on his knees. Garak’s gaze slid to him, his face illuminated by the light of the screen, its colours washing over his features. He didn’t seem to realize that Garak was looking at him. Excellent: the best chance to observe a target was when the target felt itself unobserved –

_Oh, Elim… Is he your target, then?_

He was going to have to adjust his thinking. _Is this really something I am considering?_

He hadn’t asked for this. He hadn’t _planned_ for this. He’d gotten comfortable in his quiet life, his little shop, his warm apartment, his daily back-and-forth. No orders appeared, unexpected, telling him to drop everything and go, and they never would again; even if he’d only half-begun to believe it, he knew it was true. He almost felt himself safe in some strange way, protected in anonymity, in the sure knowledge that he was in a place where nobody gave a damn about Elim Garak at all.

_So you’ve gotten so comfortable in solitude that you want to pull someone else in with you, is that it?_

Not pull someone in, exactly… Perhaps he was looking for someone to pull him out. Someone clever and lovely, who really seemed to like Garak, and would Garak be such a terrible person to ask for just a little more?

_If he knew how you were thinking about him, he’d run._

Not so! This was a date, wasn’t it? Garak had asked, and Julian had accepted – had used the word “date” himself – he was on board for whatever this was, the two of them together on this ship of fools –

_Fools indeed. If you truly think this is going to lead to anything at all, you are a bigger fool than anyone has ever suspected. You should drop it now._

But he couldn’t, could he? This was a ray of sun into his small grey world, this was sweet and light and fleet and moving and he couldn’t sit still – he found himself shifting his weight in the theatre seat, and Julian glanced at him for a moment, then back to the screen.

On the screen, Sanik was staring at himself in a bathroom mirror, and the colours were fading, shifting, as he saw himself for a moment as a Romulan, then as a Vulcan; he was no longer certain who he was. _How very timely. I do so love it when life imitates art._

God, this was _trite_ , this was bubbly, this was everything that he wasn’t, everything that he’d discarded as irrelevant and unnecessary. He’d spent his whole life learning to leave behind everything that wasn’t absolutely essential to keeping him alive, everything that could in any way hinder his escape, his becoming a new person, unsought and overlooked and safe, job after job after job –

And then he’d found himself here, with no reason to _stay_ alive, because he’d stripped away everything that made him any more than a cipher –

And a cipher that no one wanted to unravel was a rather pointless thing, wasn’t it?

Sanik was sobbing on the screen, grinding the heels of his hands against his eyes, throwing his little case of spy tools against the wall, and Garak marvelled at how unfunny this movie was when one really paid attention to the details. In a moment, Sanik would go to the Vulcan authorities, to surrender himself and throw himself on their mercy. Garak almost winced, thinking of the denouement he knew was coming. He glanced over at Julian, and saw him lost in the movie, a hand over his mouth, his eyes sympathetic to Sanik’s plight.

_Do you really think he could understand anything about you, Elim Garak? Look at him._

Unobserved, Garak let himself look:  a young man. Couldn’t be over thirty. Very likely wasn’t even close. Awkward and sweet and really rather innocent, it seemed. Worked part-time at a pizzeria; studying to be a physician; no doubt a blameless past, filled with over-achievement and school awards and kisses behind the bleachers, a life empty of pain. _I cannot even fathom it._

_You do know that if you ever told him anything about yourself, he’d be terrified._

Garak’s eyes closed, and he sighed to himself, unheard over the shouted dialogue. _Why did it have to be him?_

Wait, “have to”? Was he ascribing this to some kind of fate? Ridiculous! Nothing had dropped Julian Bashir into his life, nothing more than coincidence; there was nothing _forcing_ him to pursue this. He could end it after the movie; he could smile at Julian, and thank him for the evening, and make no mention of any more “dates,” and he knew Julian wouldn’t argue. At best, he’d be slightly puzzled; at worst, he’d be relieved; and Elim Garak would have no more problem to deal with. If he liked, he could still even visit the pizzeria sometimes, could still now and then enjoy a pleasant lunchtime conversation.

And could then go home, to his empty apartment, and read a book.

Once so desperately desired – why did the idea now seem so very unappealing –

And Julian gasped at Sanik’s pain, and Garak’s heart twisted within him, _a double agent within my own body, I am betrayed_ –

He didn’t have a choice in this, it seemed; held hostage by his own heart, _urgh,_ cloying and romantic, _really_ , Elim? _How disappointing I am._ But… this wasn’t disappointment he was feeling, was it, although he did feel very, very tired…

He rubbed his eyes, and looked up at the screen, at the final scene of the film, Sanik in his cell, pleading with his captors as they walked away. _No one is listening, Sanik. You may as well give in; life is going to do with you what it likes, however much you may protest._

Sanik buried his face in his hands, and mourned for his lost country, and perhaps for his lost self. Garak listened, amazed at how much of the ending monologue he still remembered. The wordplay was so clever; the subtitles really didn’t catch all of it –

Oh! The most important line, and Julian wouldn’t understand at all – Garak elbowed him gently, and pointed at the screen. “Pay close attention to this.”

The camera closed in on Sanik, zooming in on his face, on his eyes, and he whispered a phrase in Romulan, so eloquent – and the subtitles flashed up, “ _I have become theirs.”_   Oh, really? That was the interpretation the subtitler was going with? Fascinating.

The screen faded to black, and Garak blinked a little at the afterimages left over from the bright colours he’d been staring at for over an hour. Coming back to the real world felt a bit like stepping into twilight; everything was dimmer, less interesting.

And Julian turned to look at him, slightly puzzled, and Garak suddenly saw colour again, _green, his eyes are green, I think_ , oh, this was sad.

“Did he not really say that?” Julian’s expression was confused, almost disappointed – in himself? Oh, no, not fair, Garak hadn’t properly explained - he held up a hand.

“You remember our talk about cultural notes being included with subtitles?”

Julian nodded.

“Sanik speaks a particular dialect, and with his accent, that line could also be translated as ‘I have become _them.’”_

Julian’s brows lifted, and his mouth opened slightly as he processed that. “Which one is it supposed to be?”

Garak shook his head. “No one knows. The director was… _silenced_ in response to this film.” _Such a mess, truly…_

Julian’s mouth opened a good deal more. “Someone was _murdered_ for making this?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Incredulity washed across Julian’s face. “And you thought, ‘ _Oh, movie that killed people! It’s a date!’_?”

Garak found himself considering that one. He hadn’t really thought over the selection at all. He’d just… thought Julian would like it. No ulterior motive. No hidden manipulation. Just desire to please, _oh, dear me,_ this truly was a shame.

And yet he found himself smiling at Julian, wanting to know, “Did you like it?”

Julian blinked at him, still half-incredulous, and stopped, and took a moment to think about it. “… Yes.”

 _Victory!_ Suddenly he was pleased with himself, smug as a cat, and this was so foolish, and to hell with foolish! “Then, yes, that’s exactly what I did.”

He tilted his head, and smiled at Julian as engagingly as he knew how; Julian looked back at him, a bit bemused, and turned to stare at the credit roll. Hmm. Perhaps that had been a bit tone-deaf. _Next time, I’ll flirt better next time…_

Julian, still looking at the credits, frowned slightly. “How did you feel about it this time around?”

Um. He’d only half-seen it, he’d been so lost in his juvenile daydreaming – but the bits he’d paid attention to had certainly hit home: Sanik by himself, surrounded by noise and colour and longing for grey; enthralled by ordinary people, despite his attempts to stay true to what he was; ultimately betraying himself, and then being betrayed in return, abandoned by those he’d once been loyal to and by those he’d come to love… _Save me from such a fate._ Really, no wonder he’d forgotten about the laser pen. He wanted to shudder; instead he raised his brows, drew a slow breath.

“It was funnier when I was younger.” He looked back at the screen, now featureless and grey. “Did _you_ find it funny?”

Julian was still frowning, his mouth working as he thought. “I don’t know.” He sighed, and he looked a bit tired, too; perhaps this film hadn’t been a good choice for a “date” after all. Garak briefly regretted not thinking about it a little more. “I don’t know if I’ve even processed the significance of _‘them’_ versus _‘theirs’._ They’re both defeat, aren’t they?”

Ah, and this was something Garak had had occasion to think about now and then, in the last few years. He nodded as he stood, and picked up his coat, and held up a hand, marking separations in the air as he spoke. “One is a prison. The other is an identity.”

Julian just looked at him. _Hmm. Yes, this movie was a bad idea._ Had it been so long since he’d done something like this that he’d forgotten how to pick something that would suggest the appropriate mood?

But he had picked a silly spy movie, hadn’t he? It had been intended to illustrate his point about realism and escapism co-existing, and it had been supposed to entertain Julian and call up images of James Bond. Instead, Julian was slumped in a theatre seat, and Garak was bemused, and had briefly run out of conversation. He tried a tentative smile at Julian, and gestured towards the exit; _shall we?_

Julian started, stirred from his thoughts, and pushed himself out of the seat to follow Garak, but his face suggested he was still elsewhere, still pondering the difficulties of Sanik and his situation. Garak held the exit door for him as they left the auditorium, and walked beside him as they descended the theatre stairs, still in silence. By the time they’d reached the lobby doors, he was concerned enough about the continued lull to make another attempt at conversation.

“I rather thought you’d have more to say about it.”  _Julian, where are you?_

Julian looked over at him, almost guiltily. “Just thinking it all through.” He slipped out the door, and Garak let it close behind them. The wind had picked up, and the evening had gone from mildly chilly to downright bracing. The climate here was so unpleasant sometimes, really; Garak was glad for his coat. And here was Julian in a hooded sweatshirt and _jeans_ , honestly, he must be _freezing_ to death.

Julian, unaware of Garak’s concern for his possible demise by hypothermia, was still musing over the film. “I think if I had some time to sort out my thoughts, I’d be more engaging conversation.”

That sounded rather like either the end of the date – unappealing, especially on this note! – or, possibly, an opening for a venue change. _Somewhere warmer, yes, somewhere we can talk._ “Well, if you happen to have the time to think aloud and with company, there’s a small café about a block and a half that way.” He pointed over Julian’s shoulder.

Julian looked sideways at his arm, perfectly placed to drop lightly on Julian’s shoulder, and Garak hadn’t even realized he’d been considering that, and wanted to scold himself; some of it must have shown up in his face, because Julian half-smiled back at him, and allowed him to pull his arm back as if it had never been there at all. _Polite, thank you, Julian…_

Still deciding about the café, Julian checked his watch, and made a face, considering options. Garak waited, patience incarnate.

“Will you tell me if you prefer ‘theirs’ or ‘them’ if I go?” And now Julian’s expression was just a little bit flirtatious, a tiny smile on his face, oh, his pulse picked up, _I will tell you anything you like, the very prettiest stories I know, stop it, Elim,_ and he kept his face calm, pretended to consider the request.

“If you ask the right questions.”

Julian’s tiny smile widened, and his eyelids dropped just slightly, and oh, what lovely long lashes, “I could take a cue from Miles and let some alcohol drag it out of you.”

 _Ah –_ and the man had told him he wasn’t much of a flirt, _really?_ Because if this wasn’t flirting, Garak was getting himself terribly worked up over some very innocent conversation. Another try, less tone-deaf this time –

“I’m not entirely sure we’ve been on enough dates for that.”

Julian crossed his arms over his chest, and looked thoughtful. “It would need to be what, eight or nine, you think?”

Oh, eight or nine, wonderful, excellent, eight or nine, which meant this evening hadn’t been the near-disaster he’d worried it might be, he wanted to grin, it almost _hurt_ not to, “I should think so.”

Julian’s grin flashed wide and unrestricted, and Garak wanted to sigh and swoon, oh, this was sheer unadulterated foolishness. “Well, then. I’ll have to do what I can with trying for the right questions.” He gestured with an arm down the block. “Lead on.”

 _With pleasure._ Garak smiled, and walked beside Julian, and did not skip, and did not dance.


	8. Chapter 8

“ – course we step outside for _one minute_ and it starts to rain – “

“Come on, Julian, we’re almost there – just down this way – “

“Oh, ick, it’s _cold_ – “

“Come on, come inside – “

“Oh. Ahh, oh, that’s better.”

“Goodness, your sweatshirt is soaked. Wring it out – I’ll hang it up here, over the heater – “

“God, I’m _freezing._ ”

“Well, we _are_ in a café; I believe they may possibly specialize in warm beverages – “

* * *

“ – pay for this as well, aren’t you?”

“How many dates have you let pay for their own food?”

“None.”

“So get something.”

“In my defense, I’m not used to being on this end of it.”

“You can pay for mine next time.”

“Only if you’d like to _rent_ the movie and you’re okay eating peanut butter sandwiches in my apartment. I can probably afford that.”

“Well, I can definitely say I didn’t expect _you_ to be the one asking _me_ on another one of these.”

“Oh – er, wait, I – “

“And if you should ever _really_ make that offer, I’d be happy to accept.”

* * *

“Anything else I can get for you?”

“Nothing now, thank you, but I hope you’ll check back.”

“Um… i’duxt, nuzas’I, katuvUr tucef’tef ga-tas’ga’I…”

“i’ruxt, tas-ut’treb’I. Si tas-ga’I.”

“What did she say?”

“That she thinks my boyfriend might be flirting with her.”

“Oh, no.”

“Don’t worry. I told her you weren’t.”

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean – wait. Did you tell her I wasn’t flirting or wasn’t your boyfriend?”

“Neither and both. It’s a blessing that both our languages have space for ambiguity and your need to ask that question means she will be wondering too in a minute. Isn’t language fun?”

* * *

\- food and laughter, and really _excellent_ conversation, it’s actually quite fun to be out at night with someone – well, at least, with Julian -

\- who is illustrating a point with his knife, moving crumbs into small groups on his plate to delineate his idea, and Garak is delighted –

\- oh, they’re laughing together about the concept of _semantic saturation_ , this is _insane_ , this kind of thing just doesn’t _happen_ –

\- the conversation comes back to Sanik, and he’s half worried that Julian will slump back into silence, but no, he’s rallied as he said he would, and he picks apart Garak’s argument with magnificent precision, and Garak just wants to hide his face in his hands to cover his smile –

\- and the waitress can’t tell if they’re a couple, and neither can Garak, suddenly, and what fun to exist in the moment, to be truly non-linear –

\- Julian makes an excited gesture and knocks his tea absolutely everywhere, and thank heavens he’d hung his sweatshirt up, because it would now be truly irreparable, and Garak knows he is beyond hope, completely beyond hope, because Julian with his arms flung over the table, desperately trying to hold back the tide of tea, is one of the most adorable things he’s ever seen –

\- a week ago he would _never_ have used the word adorable, not even in his thoughts; how in so little time has Julian managed to rewrite his rulebook? –

\- _still think you’re fine, Elim?_ –


	9. Chapter 9

As they rounded the corner, Garak saw the lights of the plaza, shining wetly through the rain. The bright red of Deep Dish Nine’s sign mingled with the gaudy, flashing neon pinks and greens of Quark’s sign next to it; the combination should have been awful, but in the night, in the rain, it was strangely lovely. _Of course, my judgement at this moment is perhaps less than precise._

Ahead of him, Julian was walking backwards through the rain. The young man was soaked again, but he wasn’t complaining, even though his hooded sweatshirt might as well have been a tissue for all the protection it offered. Garak felt obligated to be no less stalwart, despite the unpleasant moisture of his saturated scarf next to his skin, the drip of rain over his hands and down the back of his neck. _I can’t wait to get inside and into something dry and comfortable –_

But that thought, initially comforting, was accompanied by a pang of disappointment, because that would mean the evening was over, wouldn’t it. _Pathetic, Elim. Are you worried you’ll be lonely? Can’t you handle it by now?_

He really rather felt he’d had enough practice with ‘lonely,’ actually; perhaps it was time to branch out…

Julian, ahead of him, was smiling, and wasn’t looking where he was going, and it was a good thing Garak was, because Julian was about to step backwards directly into a recycling bin. Garak reached out and caught his arm, stopping him, and the change in momentum pulled Julian towards him just a little; for a moment they were face to face, looking into each other’s eyes, and in Julian’s eyes he saw a bewilderment that he suspected might be mirrored in his own. It was too close, too much too soon – _Elim, be clever –_

“I’m beginning to wonder how you function without an escort.” Hmm, perhaps a bit harsh? But Julian grasped it as the lifeline it was, and smiled a little; he braced himself against Garak’s arm and pulled himself back upright, and nodded thanks.

“I was doing well until the tea. It’s some kind of domino effect.” He let go of Garak’s arm, but he was still close, and Garak breathed him in, the lightest scent, not cologne, just…

_It’s just him. He just smells good._

Without his consciously willing it, his hands reached up to Julian’s shoulders, resting lightly; Julian’s brows rose, and he looked nervously at Garak’s hands, and what should he – but he wanted to –

A thought. “Permit me to get you another ten feet so I don’t find you in the obituaries tomorrow.” _That’s it, yes - I’m joking with you, ha!_ And meanwhile he recaptured his escaped libido and tucked it away, ye gods, he was too old to be kissing in the rain anyway. _Far too old…_

Julian looked at him for a moment, but laughed at his little joke – his very little joke – and shrugged his shoulders lightly; Garak let his hands fall away. His palms were just slightly warm where they’d rested on Julian’s slim shoulders. Only half-aware, he closed his hands, wanting to hold on to that subtle warmth, so welcome here; it had been so long since he’d last been warm.

He and Julian walked together for those last few steps to the building, not looking at each other, quiet in the rain. As they approached the building, Garak heard the strangest sound – a sort of creaking _whirr_ ; he looked up, and saw the security cameras over the door turn to aim themselves at the two of them. _Hmm. I wasn’t aware those cameras were functional._ He narrowed his eyes and filed that information away for later.

Julian noticed it too, and frowned. _What does he know that I don’t?_ Oh, well, little matter; the rain was cold, and now that they were here, the idea of getting inside and getting dry was growing in appeal. After some minor difficulty with actually getting the creaking, complaining door to open, the two of them filed into the little lobby of the building. There wasn’t much room; really, the small area was only meant for mail pickup and access to the leasing office, and two people were a bit of a tight fit, especially if one of them really did seem to be made up entirely of knees and elbows. _And hands, and smiles…_

Here was where they’d head back to their own apartments, then. Just like last time, just like after coffee, except last time he’d been walking on air, and this time he was… apprehensive was the best word for it, really. _Here is where I learn whether I’m torturing myself over nothing. Or over… something._ Which would be better? _Is either good?_

Julian shoved his keys into his pocket and fidgeted a little bit, searching for conversation; at least Garak wasn’t the only one feeling a bit off kilter. “Erm, what floor are you on?”

Garak raised his brows. “The basement.”

“Oh. I didn’t know there were people down there.”

 _That sounds like it should be followed by a crashing chord in a minor key._ “I’m sure that’s a line from a horror movie of some sort, but now you understand my flower box problem.” Their previous discussion about Garak’s disinclination to set up an orchid garden on his balcony – his non-existent balcony – presumably made a little more sense now.

Comprehension dawned on Julian’s features, and he winced. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” And that was really where this should end, wasn’t it? Nothing more to say, and it had been a lovely evening, aside from his embarrassing slip at the end, his briefly overwhelming desire to touch. Thank heavens that hadn’t led to anything more complicated. This stew of emotion was enough to manage on its own without incorporating anything more – any kind of caress or kiss, anything to keep him up at night –

_Elim. If you’re going to lie to yourself, at least get better at it._

A quiet, almost understated desire was stirring inside him, welling up, and would it be so terrible? Perhaps not a kiss, but maybe –

He lifted a hand towards Julian’s own, but didn’t touch; instead, he let it hang in the air between them, waiting. “May I?”

Julian looked at Garak’s hand, his expression blank but not dismayed, and met it with his own.

_Oh…_

Garak closed his hand around Julian’s, not letting their fingers interlace in any way, not looking for more than had been offered, but welcoming the touch, the feel of soft skin and delicate bones beneath, the press of palm to palm, their hands just a bit wet from rain. He met Julian’s eyes, smiling up at him, into those pretty pools of green. The emotion he read there was predominantly confusion, but also – if he wasn’t playing games with himself again – there was a willingness, a warmth. _Now is the time._

“Is it possible you’d do this again?” And he held his breath –

Julian smiled, then laughed – but he wasn’t mocking Garak, he was actually amused with the question, he was teasing him, a good sign, surely! “What number would that one be?”

 _Heh._ Garak chuckled, and tilted his head. “What number do you like?”

And Julian was still holding his hand, more than he could have hoped for, really; was he imagining it, or could he feel the young man’s pulse, beating between their palms? He was considering his answer, lips pursed, but his eyes were still laughing. “I’m afraid what number I like doesn’t matter so much as what number I think I can handle.”

 _That implies you’re ready to handle at least something…_ _Stop it, Elim!_ Oh, dear, here was that libido again. He’d had so little use out of it these last few years, he’d almost thought he’d completely misplaced it, and yet now it galloped in, when it really _wasn’t helpful –_

He kept himself composed, and let his eyebrows rise just a little, intimating curiosity. “How is that?”

Julian shrugged at him, and smiled. “Well, going by the logic that this was not a first date based on what it did and did not contain, the other dates would be defined that way too, and if I told you our next one was number six, I’d be expected to have a lot more things figured out by then than I currently do.”

Oh, a logical deconstruction of their mutual decision to be foolish and non-linear; both Garak’s libido and his intelligence swooned, overwhelmed, and he honestly didn’t quite know what to do with himself. His mouth kept working on its own, thank God - “Not having been on dates three through five, I can’t tell you what would ‘be expected.’” Hmm. That had actually sounded like a reasonable response. _Not bad, Elim._

But Julian was now frowning, which didn’t seem to follow from Garak’s statement – _what did I do?_ Garak didn’t frown back, but he tilted his head, trying to communicate:  _Tell me._

Julian looked back at him, and sighed. “Would going on date four mean I had to follow through with date three?”

 _Eurgh._ Garak wasn’t sure what he liked less about that statement:  the idea that Julian might not want to follow through with a date, or the idea that Garak would try to force him to do so. What would be the point of this silliness, this little daydream, if it were in any way forced? “Of course not! You really think I’d do something like that? Frankly, that’d be more like dates with,” and he groped for a moment, “with _Dukat.”_

He squeezed Julian’s hand in unintentional emphasis; Julian looked down at their hands, still clasped, and smiled. “Sorry. Just checking to see that I understand the rules of this game. You’ll recall I’ve never played it the _‘non-linear and with a man’_ way before.”

 _Ah. A game._ Well, he didn’t cheat at games, and he wouldn’t cheat at this, either, even if perhaps he was taking it slightly more seriously than the typical game of kotra. “I’m disappointed that you view it as a game, but I am open to working with that.” He smiled, just a little, and tilted his head invitingly, peering up into Julian’s face. _Be honest with me._ “You still haven’t told me if you’ll play again.”

Julian didn’t answer right away, and Garak forced himself to wait, dangling there, smiling easily –

“I’m not sure yet.”

_Oh._

Suddenly, all the words, all the flirting, all the little hidden things he’d thought he’d seen seemed rather flat. _This was the best you could do, and it wasn’t good enough._

Well, this did make things easier; now he knew, and he could go home and –

Wait. _Did he say ‘yet’?_

Something of the turmoil in his mind must have crossed his face, for Julian raised his other hand as if to stop Garak from speaking. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not taking it seriously.”

_He did. He did say ‘yet.’ Which implies that there may indeed be a ‘yet’ to come. And he reassured you of this._

It wasn’t a passionate declaration of love, but he’d take it. Hell, he _delighted_ in it, he danced with it, oh, the myriad untasted joys of that ‘yet’!

He smiled a smile that reflected nothing of the whirl of emotion inside him, a smile that he knew would say only that he was happy to be there with Julian, and ‘true enough’ really was the best kind of lie. “Take whatever time you need.” _I can wait. God knows I’ve got nowhere else to be._

But he was only human, and Julian’s hand was soft and strong, and perhaps he was allowed – “Though if I may ask a favour?”

Julian’s expression was hesitant, and almost a bit apologetic. “I suppose?”

Garak kept his voice calm, but inside him his emotions thrummed, a quiet intensity. “I would greatly like an answer either way. I think we can agree being left to wonder would be awkward for everyone?”

Julian’s eyes widened just a little. Hm. Perhaps he hadn’t kept his voice quite as calm as he’d thought. Well, he hoped it was complimentary, anyway.

“Of course,” and Julian nodded, his own voice slightly more intense that the words warranted. “I’ll tell you, no matter what I decide. Promise.”

Garak looked at Julian’s face, at his lips pressed together, at the sincerity in his eyes, and couldn’t decide whether to thank him or kiss him –

And did the next best thing to both:  he lifted Julian’s hand and nestled it against his collarbone, held there securely by the pressure of his own hand wrapped warmly around it. The feeling of the young man’s hand there at his throat, of making himself so vulnerable – he hadn’t opened up like this in years, and yet it didn’t hurt, it felt _good_ , was he slipping? Was this safe? _Sanik, I think I know how you felt._

He let himself look at Julian for one more second, to capture Julian’s expression, to try to convey some of what he felt without saying anything –

And he released Julian’s hand, but its warmth lingered again in his palm, and at his neck, and he rather thought there should have been some kind of mark left behind.

Happily, Julian didn’t snatch his hand away; instead, it fell slowly back to his side, and Garak watched him ball it into a fist and squeeze, rather like Garak had done on the steps outside. _My hands are always cold… I do hope he wasn’t chilled._

He’d dragged this out as long as he could. Time to slip back into formality, to let the young man off the hook. Julian had told Garak that he’d let him know if and when he wanted to do this again; now Garak had to wait. “I appreciate it. I won’t keep you any longer. And thank you again for your company. Perhaps I’ll run into you at lunch tomorrow?” He slid his formal demeanour over him like a coat, shrugging into it easily. It felt a little tight.

Julian’s hand relaxed, tightened, relaxed. He nodded, his expression difficult to read. “Sure.”

“I look forward to it.” But this he could still do, this was permitted:  Garak bowed to Julian, his posture expressing all he couldn’t say, the sweetness of the evening, the pleasure of having been allowed to share it with Julian, the hopes he had of someday doing so again, all there in the tilt of his neck, the angle of his back. No doubt quite incomprehensible to Julian, but still said. And that was something. _Whenever you make up your mind, come find me. I’ll be waiting._

“Good night, Julian.”

“Good night.”


End file.
